


deeper than all roses

by rathxritter



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant ish, F/M, Fluff, oc (mentioned) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 14:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19477882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rathxritter/pseuds/rathxritter
Summary: While on holiday, Jemma and Fitz discuss their future.(FitzSimmons + "I need a hug")





	deeper than all roses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amazingjemma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amazingjemma/gifts).



> For the lovely amazingjemma!! 
> 
> Unbeta'd.

"I say, are you feeling alright?" asked Jemma. "It's just... You've been terribly quiet as of late, not to mention that you've been staring at that kettle for at least ten minutes. The water isn't going to boil unless you turn that thing on."

"Oh, ha ha ha! Hilarious, really." He paused and laughed. It felt called for, a way to alleviate the situation and distance himself from his thoughts, but was honest in its nature - bubbling up at the back of his throat, ticklish, coming out inhibited and carefree. It felt liberating. He went on, "You really are a genius, aren't you?"

"So you're admitting it at last!"

"Admitting what?"

"That I'm the smartest," she said, looking at him from over the book she was reading and raising her eyebrows.

"Clearly. I would never survive everyday life without you, the Jemma Anne Simmons-Fitz." He lingered on the hyphenated surnames, articulating all syllables with care and time, teasing her.

"Sounds great." Jemma chuckled. "I said that one time!"

"I'd be completely and utterly lost without you and your lifesaving hacks. Good thing they're free."

"Good thing I'm here, then."

"Yeah," he said and looked outside the window, his reflection on the glass staring back at him.

Outside late spring in all its glory. Green leaves on every tree, rustling and rattling in the gentle breeze, shadow dancing on the recently cut grass. A colourful sea of flowers next to the pebbled pathway that lead to the garden shed - daffodils, daisies, columbines, tulips. The buzzing of bumblebees. Nature at its best. In a corner, a small wooden patio with a white plastic table, the chairs neatly tucked under it, soon it would be warm enough to eat outside, in the midst of the salty flowery smell; A lively smell, a fresh smell filling everyone's nostrils, so different from the smell of the city, it smelled of home, life and hope.

"You don't sound too convincing, you know that, don't you?"

He nodded.

Her chair screeched against the floor as Jemma pushed it back, an unpleasant and high pitched noise that made his skin crawl. For a moment he prepared himself for it to fall down and for the inevitable crush, but the only sound that followed were Simmons's steps - the relentless sound of her slippers against the tiled floor filling the small kitchen and engulfing them both. Them, suddenly but not unexpectedly, she was beside him, their hands touching as they rested on the counter. Their golden wedding bands caught in the morning light, almost shining, as their fingers brushed against the other's, her skin warm against his. Curling at the contact, a soft, light and precious touch. A simple welcomed gesture that could just as easily remain unnoticed; And yet, in its privacy, was simple and joyful, their own gentle reminder that they were both there: safe, alive, together. On Earth.

A sense of elation taking over, he smiled at his wife with fondness, a surge of affection - it felt as if he had never loved her more than in that moment, standing next to each other in a situation filled with domesticity. If only, he thought, this moment could last forever - stretch itself towards infinity, a microcosm of its own made by the two of them and a normal, quiet life, someplace safe. Their time in Kirkcaldy never coming to an end.

"It was Máiréad, wasn't it? I've told you to ignore her provocations."

"No, it's not that." He stopped. Oddly true, for once his sister had nothing to do with his lousy mood. He had missed her too much to care about the precision in all her attacks, the sneer in all her you-s. Fitz went on and said, "Besides, I think I can handle her, the trick is singing Mairead Nan Cuiread with as much passion as you can and she shuts up immediately."

Jemma nudged him with her elbow.

"What? It's true! One of these days I'm going to show you."

"That's unfair, Fitz."

He shrugged. "She's the one holding a grudge because we didn't say anything about our wedding until after it happened."

A fractured relationship. They were strangers to each other as she never failed to mention and it was all his stupid fault. He had left for the Academy and never gotten back: but what was there to say? That while she was preparing for National 5, he had jumped through a hole in the universe, one last and desperate attempt to save Jemma? That while she was applying for university, thinking about what to do with her life, he had been trapped in an alternative reality of his own making - something good turned into a weapon by people he thought he could trust? That he hadn't been home because he'd been to space and died only to be turned into a living paradox? It would not do, it was better to listen to her endless expression of deep resentments and hope that once day they'd somehow manage to forgive each other and move on.

"She's actually quite clever," he added. "If she could just drop her sense of superiority. She keeps acting all hoity-toity, but fails to realize that she merely appears to be highfalutin. You should hear her speak: English this, English that. She's just angry and jealous, or maybe I should be jealous of her. She gets to stay in Kirkcaldy, we get what? Heartbreak and sorrow?"

"You should try telling her that our lives aren't as glamorous as they sound."

"As if."

"Please tell me it wasn't me. I know we don't always see eye to eye when it comes to politics, I hope I didn't overstep at dinner. " She was panicking now, fidgeting with her hands. It saddened him, Jemma trying to take the blame when the real problem was his inability to step over the inanities and reach for the bigger thought.

"We? As far as I recall Máiréad was the only one talking, going on about Brexit and Scottish Independence." He paused, doing his best to imitate his sister as he said, "Cameron, that clown! The country's future decided on a roll of a dice! Everyone rolling around like headless chickens! And her final, triumphant fuck Brexit!"

"Well, that certainly put your mother's warning not to mention Brexit into prospective." Jemma laughed. "She's quite the thing, your sister. She reminds me of you, you know."

"Still, you've done nothing wrong, Jemma. And even if, who cares?"

People made mistakes, one could argue that it was what made them human, there was no need to be the best versions of themselves. They had learnt the hard way that such a pretence could never last: it would inevitably come to an end. Loudly and with an argument, harsh words unfairly poured out in the heat of the moment - they'd only have to apologize later.

"I just... I think I need a hug."

"Oh, Fitz."

Jemma stepped closer and embraced him, her arms moving around his shoulders and, almost instinctively, out of mere reflex, his arms moved around her waist. They stood there in silence with their bodies dovetailed together, the clock on the wall ticking the seconds away. Comforting, reassuring and familiar: It felt like home. Home, where no matter what happened they could always rely on each other. Home, where they still had each other, a force to be reckoned with. Home, right and slightly inevitable, sometimes it felt as if all the times had run towards this moment. Home, never wanting to let go.

"So," she whispered, her breath ticklish against his neck. "What's it all about?"

"It's about... lots of things, really."

She hugged him tighter, she felt her hand at the back of his name playing with his hair. "Lots."

"Yeah."

Plenty of things adding up to each other, one on the other, an indistinguishable mix. Confusion at its best, so where to start? His thoughts were tangled, intricate, going staccato, but it was all clear now - how it started and how he wanted it to end, he had been thinking about it for years. The time in Kirkcaldy was merely bringing it to the surface, granting him courage to confess it all to Jemma - it was a neutral place that now, under the morning sun, appeared benevolent. Surely the place liked them. Surely the place liked itself. Surely it wanted them to stay.

It was about Home, with a capital h. A place like no other and he could say that with a certain degree of certainty because he had travelled the world and had crossed the universe, twice. It was also about spending a month in Kirkcaldy, former royal burgh in Fife on the east coast of Scotland, nicknamed Lang Toun by its inhabitants in reference to the early town's 0.9 mile main street, as indicated on maps from the sixteenth and seventeenth century. Above all, it was about staying at his mother's, with her, his sister and his mother's partner, and that sense of familiarity and domesticity that the situation constantly provided. A house, a home - the mere thought of getting back filled him with dread, now that he had the chance to live one thing, he did not want the other. Here or anywhere else away from SHIELD, there was no fear at the thought of waking up in the morning, unaware of the day's risk: there was life and there were certainties that came from it, ancient monoliths and murderous robots nothing but a distant memory. Memories here were like a legendary past, something one might hear in sagas about heroes crossing the universe and facing unimaginable enemies, blue aliens, ancient deities that wanted to conquer the world. Memories here didn't belong to the present, they appeared impossible and dreamlike, belonging to the past that by definition was like a foreign country - thing were done differently there.

The freedom! He hadn't felt like this in years, there was plenty of time to rest and there would be even with a job and responsibilities. Well deserved breaks from everyday life: the trip to St. Andrews to eat gelato and walk down the pier, the promise of fish and chips in Newhaven and a day trip to Edinburgh.

The variety! Everyone seemed to have funny anecdotes about their day at work and complaints about other people: co-workers, classmates, some random stranger on the street.

"Staying here made me realize a couple of things," he admitted. "Which made me think about life. About us."

"Us?"

He nodded.

It had been the people in the street and their ordinary lives, something he had never paid much attention to but now couldn't help but notice, to make him realize all that was missing and all that was wrong. Upon their arrival, he and Jemma had walked down High Street and had seen people leaving Marks and Spencer with dinner, presumably, or with the shopping, happily talking about the end of the week, elated at the mere thought of two days of rest. The whole weekend ahead, he had forgotten what a weekend was and how it felt like to look forward to one. Then, their shopping trip to Tesco and Máiréad helping them to unload the car and Jemma announcing that the Simmons had always done their shopping at Waitrose; Máiréad had told her _you're so posh!_ and a quick argument had followed, the mere thought of it was enough to make him laugh.

It was all about SHIELD and their lives there, except that those weren't lives at all. It was a pretence of life, a mere glimpse of possibility, and a trap for it pulled you right back in as soon as you wanted to leave. An inescapable place that fostered reckless extremism and the rash choleric impulsiveness, and offered a permanent invitation to violence. They had done things... He had done things he had yet to forgive himself for. Beauty too, but also tragedy - control slipping away from them, never at reach. He was tired of it and had been for a long time.

"It's all so... normal. It makes one realize how crazy our lives have been as of late."

"I don't know about you, Fitz, but I don't need Kirkcaldy to realize how crazy my life is. Getting high on Kitson seems like the best example."

"Well, you're the one who dragged us into that flying circus."

"Not my fault, you could have said no."

All those sorry months and years and now they could no longer say no, there was never any time to do so: one thing leading to another. Suppose, however, that they were to leave: they'd be masters of their own life again, after more than ten years. There would be, no doubt, comfort and joy at the thought of not being in immediate danger, not now, not ever, a fixed routine and the chance to heal. Time, the greatest gift of all.

"Out of SHIELD, with you. It's the first time I felt at peace." He stopped, taking a deep breath. It took courage to be honest after having been let down by life, after having been hurt. "I'd like to leave SHIELD for good."

He spoke quickly, the last sentence coming out in a rushed, half mumbled and trembling flow of words. The honesty more freeing than Fitz would have imagined. "I'd love to move forward. At last! What do you think?"

"I think that I've had enough excitement for a lifetime. Fitz, I've followed you to another galaxy, I'd follow you wherever you wanted to go."

"Won't you miss it?"

"Our friends, sure. The place... it's just a place, it's just work. We'll find something else to do."

"I can't believe we're really doing this, wife."

"It feels good, doesn't it, though?" She paused. "Husband."

Jemma kissed, chastely and tentatively at first, a great deal of hesitance painting her movements, and then with more honesty and passion. Tender and languid movements, the feeling of her lips pressed on his, something that always felt surprising: imagine their luck! He smiled as the clock ticked the seconds away and they stood there, bodies pressed together and not moving.

The sound of the house door that was being slammed closed made them jump apart and blush. Then Máiréad voice calling for them, echoing through the small hall.

"In the kitchen!" Fitz shouted back.

His sister entered the room, still wearing her coat and with her rucksack on her shoulders. "I need a drink," she stated as she walked towards the fridge, opened it and took out a bottle of Irn-Bru. He watched her take off the blue bottle cap with mathematical precision and take a long sip of the bright orange liquid, enjoying herself when only a couple of days earlier she had complained about the new recipe.

"God, what a day!"

Jemma laughed and looked at him, taking his hand and then saying, "I think you should tell us all about it."

**Author's Note:**

> \- I'm aware that Fitz is from Glasgow, but I don't like Glasgow and Kirkcaldy is way better.  
> \- The Marks & Spencer in High Street actually closed, there's another one though (Central Retail Park).  
> \- Gelato and a walk down the pier is the ultimate St. Andrews experience.  
> \- Fish & Chips in Newhaven is a must!!  
> \- My tumblr is rathxritter, come talk to me about Brexit.


End file.
